


Second Meetings, Second Chances

by Sarcasmcat



Category: Laramie (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-22
Updated: 2020-06-22
Packaged: 2021-03-04 12:07:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24849502
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sarcasmcat/pseuds/Sarcasmcat
Summary: Taking a drink of his whiskey Slim looks from the tables to the men sitting around them. This isn’t something he often indulges in, the danger inherent in it but at times like this he can’t help it, and the danger should be minimal.
Relationships: Jess Harper/Slim Sherman
Comments: 6
Kudos: 24





	Second Meetings, Second Chances

**Author's Note:**

> I hope everyone is doing well. 
> 
> So, I really should have been working on other things, like the wonderful suggestions for Missing Moments, or even my longer story. But I got this idea, and it had to be done, and here we are. 
> 
> Enjoy!

The saloon is crowed and loud, the air redolent with the scent of tobacco, sweat and spilled beer. From what Slim has picked up from the dozen ongoing conversation is it is payday for one of the big ranches around here and the men are making night of it. Ignoring a shoving match at the far end of the bar Slim shakes his head when the bartender starts to approach him. He has every intention of finishing this drink before heading to the hotel for the night.

Laramie is still days away and he wants to be home before next week.

Glass in hand Slim turns from the bar, the edge digging into his lower back. The back half of the big saloon is studded with card tables, all of them full. He lets his gaze wander over the tables, more out of boredom than any real interest in the games. What little money he has in his pocket has been earned with blood and sweat and he isn’t in any hurry to spend it on something so frivolous. 

Taking a drink of his whiskey Slim looks from the tables to the men sitting around them. This isn’t something he often indulges in, the danger inherent in it, but at times like this he can’t help it, and the danger should be minimal. Everyone is too invested in gambling and their alcohol to pay attention to one man who might be paying undue attention.   
Most of the players are older than he is, tanned brown and rough from hours riding for big ranching outfits. There are a few others, who are younger than he is, looking around the saloon with wide eyes, like they aren’t quite sure they belong in the hub of activity.

Slim finishes his drink and turns, setting the glass down and pushing it towards the back edge of scarred bar. As he turns back, his gaze is caught, a warm flush sliding through him. He isn’t sure how he missed this man on his first perusal of the bar, especially when he knows no one has gotten up from any of the tables in the short time his back was turned. 

The man is roughly his age, dark haired and even from where he is standing, with three tables between them, Slim can tell his eyes are blue, bright with good humor as he shuffles the card. His movements are controlled and easy, but Slim can see the strength in his body, the curve of his bicep under his shirt. 

Heat pools in his stomach and Slim shakes his head, feeling like an idiot. This isn’t the place and he really should be getting back to his room. Morning is going to come early enough without trying to get into trouble. He pushes away from the bar, with every intention of leaving the saloon but he finds himself pinned.

Blue eyes are looking at him, with a hint of knowing and Slim freezes, fingers curled loosely against his thigh. His heartbeat is loud in his ears and he knows he’s been caught, and he can only hope the man isn’t the type of make a scene. This is the kind of thing that can get a man tarred and feathered, driven out of town.

But the man just smiles, warm and lazy as he sets the deck of cards in the middle of the table. Slim can only watch as the man picks up his winnings from the table and stands. He plucks a black hat off the back of his chair before wending his way through the tables, heading for the bar.

Brushing past Slim he glances up, a hint of something in his gaze, an invitation and challenge all in one and Slim feels like he’s been struck by lightning. He watches as the man heads for the doors of the saloon, eyes dropping to the dark gun belt and he has no doubt it isn’t just for show. 

Only when the man is gone does Slim move and he scrubs a hand across his face, tempted to order another whiskey. He doesn’t though, knowing if he’s going to act on the invitation it is better to do it while he’s sober. It doesn’t seem likely it will be a trap, but he would much rather have his wits about him. 

Taking a last look around the saloon, not seeing anyone paying extra attention to him or the other man, Slim finally moves. He heads for the door, pulse loud in his ears and below the warmth pooling in his stomach he hopes he isn’t making a terrible mistake. 

The night air is cool against his cheeks and he stops outside the door, looking around. Lanterns hang outside the buildings, spots of warm light in the darkness. There one person on the road, wobbling in the direction of one of the hotels but the only other signs of life are the sounds and light spilling from the various saloons dotting the street.

Movement to his left catches his attention and he sees an arm, just enough light from the lantern on the edge of the porch to show blue fabric. Taking a deep breath he turns that way, making enough sound to announce his presence. He has the distinct feeling the person he followed out isn’t the type of man he wants to startle. 

Stepping off the bottom stair he turns into the dark alley. There is a small stained-glass window on this side of the saloon, just enough to provide some illumination and he can see the man, his smile still welcoming and Slim feels some of his worry fall away. There are so many reasons he shouldn’t be doing this but right now, he can’t seem to care.

He stops just below the window, which is above his head and the man steps into him, close enough he can feel his heat down his body and arousal spreads through him. The last time he had done something like this had been years ago, hurried, and clandestine, and he hasn’t given in since then. Had thought about not following tonight but there is something about the man in front of him, hot and barely tamed.

A strong hand curls over his left hip, away from his gun, the best sign of trust he can get in a situation like this. He looks down at him and ducks his head, dragging his mouth along the sweep of the man’s cheek and he feels the lean body shiver against him. “I don’t make a habit of this.”

Slim isn’t sure why he said it, if he was trying to explain away any fumbling he might do, or if he wants the other man to know he normally doesn’t follow strangers into dark alleys.

The man laughs, the low sound sending a jolt through Slim, making his cock twitch in interest. He tips his head back to nip at Slim’s chin before brushing the sting away with a quick kiss. “Neither do I.” His free hand settles on the back of Slim’s thigh, thumb stroking. “It takes a special person to catch my attention.”

That sends a frisson of arousal through him and Slim is gratified to feel an answering hardness pressing against him. Raising his hands Slim rests one on his companion’s side, fingers spread wide to soak up his heat and he must imagine the way he leans into the touch. His other hand skates down his back, hand gliding over the dark gun belt and he hooks a few fingers in the back pocket, just enough to feel but not seem controlling or presumptive. 

There is another sting on his jaw, quickly soothed by another brush of lips and the man laughs. “Well, this has to be the politest time I’ve ever had.”

Slim isn’t sure if he should laugh and he settles for nipping at the lobe of the ear near his mouth. 

The hand on his hip slides inward, fingers lingering over his fly and Slim gives a jerky nod. He isn’t sure he can manage words right now, not with the way the man is pressing against him. Quick fingers open his fly, reaching in and he bites back on a groan as fingers slide down his length, teasing before drawing him out. The touch remains light, drawing him to full hardness and Slim swallows hard, liquid arousal spreading through him.

A thumb swirls across the head, gathering moisture and he swallows down a sound. Even outside the noise from the saloon is almost too loud but it wouldn’t take much to alert someone to the goings on out here. Any further thought is driven from his head as the hand around his cock slides down gently, teasing more than touching and he fights the urge to thrust. 

Slowly the touch becomes firmer and he feels like there is lightning under his skin, all terminating in his cock and the quick, skilled hand curled around him. His partner teases him with every upward motion of his hand, thumb flicking across the head of his cock, and Slim knows it won’t take much with the heat in his groin, the lean body pressed against his, the low words he can’t quite make out.

Release slams into him and he bites the inside of his cheek, head falling back against the side of the saloon. He is vaguely aware of the hand on his thigh stroking, chasing away the trembles and he stares up at the sky.

Breath slowing Slim doesn’t waste any time, working a hand between them. It takes him a moment of fumbling, but he gets the fly undone and he reaches in. Hot, hard flesh meets his fingers and he grins when the man presses his face into his neck, stifling a moan in a hot rush across his skin. He thumbs at the slit, wetness welling up at his touch and he can’t help but wish he had some oil or were doing this with better light. Now that he has the man like this, he wants to be able to see, to listen to the sounds he makes. 

A hand settles over his, callouses rough against his skin and he lets the other man lead him. He slides his other hand to the small of the man’s back, pulling him closer and he feels a huff of surprise against his neck. It doesn’t take long until the body against him shudders, wetness on their hands and Slim doesn’t let go, holding him through his release. 

They stand like that for long moments and Slim doesn’t mind, easily taking the other man’s weight as he leans back against the wall. He feels lips on the underside of his jaw and then his companion is pulling away and Slim lets him, hand dropping from him. Reaching up he manages to work the knot out of his bandana, and he uses it to clean his hand, amused to see the man is doing the same with one he must have pulled from a pocket. 

Shoving the bandana in his pocket Slim tucks himself away, still heavy with release and he knows he’ll sleep well tonight, if he ever makes it to the hotel. 

Even in the darkness he can tell the man is grinning and he reaches out, fingers brushing along the line of his shoulder before he steps back. He doesn’t get to touch anymore and before he can say anything, the other man is gone. 

Slim shakes his head and exits the alley. The streets are empty, and he heads for the hotel, lassitude spreading through his body with every step. 

\-----  
Some Years Later  
\-----

Frowning Slim watches as the man rides off, only moving when the trespasser is out of sight, irritation prickling under his skin. He hikes up the hill, retrieving his rifle from the underbrush before heading to where his horse is, tucked away in a copse of trees. This is hardly the first person he has had to chase away from the water, but there had been something about this man that has set him on edge. It wasn’t just his attitude, like the rules didn’t apply to him, but something else. 

His smirk had been lazy and insolent, like he knew Slim was no real danger to him. Behind that had been something else, a light in his eyes, as though he was trying to share a joke, something Slim was part of, should have been part of. Maybe the man had sensed his gaze, playing along, humoring him and Slim feels a flush creep up his cheeks.

He knows he shouldn’t have been looking, but it had been impossible not to. Not when the man had been stretched out like that in the grass, like he belonged here, broad shoulders and lean lines. It had been too much temptation and he had given in, because it has been years since the last time he allowed himself this. 

Taking care of Andy and the ranch has been his sole focus and there hasn’t been time for his own needs. Add in the fact Laramie and the surrounding area knows him well and it isn’t worth the danger for a few minutes of pleasure.

Slim slides his rifle back into the scabbard before grabbing the reins and mounting up. Worse though is the fact there is something achingly familiar about the man he just chased off the ranch. His memory is failing him though and he turns in the direction of home. 

It doesn’t really matter if he never remembers where he seems to know the man from. He’s never going to see him again.

\-----

Coffee in hand Slim leans back against the wall, not sure how he feels about the way Andy seems to be enamored with Jess. He appreciates his help with Carlin and his men, though he wishes his brother hadn’t been so quick to offer up an invitation for Jess to stay on at the ranch. Jess has accepted it, on a very vocal trial basis. And had grinned at Slim, sharp, and knowing and Slim had felt suddenly wary, not sure what to make of the look. But it hadn’t lasted long, falling to something softer before Jess had turned his attention to Andy. 

That was nearly a week ago and since then things have settled a little. Jess makes noise about the number of chores to be done daily, though he always does his share and does it well. He is great with the horses and it has been a relief, to have someone else around the house who can do some of the heavier chores. 

Slim is sure he’s imagining it, but by the end of the day it doesn’t feel like his body is one giant knot and it is a little easier to get out of bed in the morning, knowing Jess will be there, albeit with some grumbling. 

The one thing he knows he isn’t imaging though, are the looks Jess keeps giving him. Warm and familiar and he isn’t stupid, has felt the way Jess’ hand has lingered on his arm or back the few times they’ve touched, hand like a brand through his shirts. 

Slim bends down, picking up the last of the wood. It is almost time for dinner, and he is more than ready to be done for the day, short of the little bit of harness mending they need to do, though it can be done inside. He looks at Jess, who is coming out of the barn, a rag in hand. “How is he?”

Jess shrugs, wiping his hands on the rag. “Looks okay. We’ll have to keep an eye on it, but in a few days should be good.” He wrinkles his nose in disgust. “Better be, with the way Jonesy goes on about his liniment.”

Laughing Slim crosses to the wood pile, stacking his load on the top. Jess has yet to get used to the acrid tang of the liniment in question and never fails to comment about it to Jonesy. Setting the last piece of wood on top Slim turns, not able to speak with the way Jess is stretching, arms above his head, and Slim wants to slide his hands up Jess’ flanks, to feel him pressed against his body. 

Jess shifts, that damned knowing smile spreading across his face, the one Slim has come to dread seeing. He knows he’s been caught looking and he doesn’t move, or insult Jess by trying to hide. The fact he can’t seem to not want Jess is his own problem and he’ll take whatever Jess wants to do. 

Smiling Jess closes the distance between them, brushing past Slim in what could almost be termed a teasing manner and he stops at the door into the kitchen, turning to look at Slim. “You just going to stand there?”

Slim is half tempted to not move, getting the feeling Jess is playing with him, and he isn’t sure how he feels about it. Part of him wants to reach out, to feel Jess under his hands, to pin him against a wall and make Jess his, but a smaller part knows to not break the careful balance they have and he chooses to listen to that, as much as he doesn’t want to.

\-----

A month later Slim feels like he is going to crawl out of his skin. No matter how hard he tries he can’t seem to remember where he might have met Jess before. Before coming back to the ranch he had done his fair share of wandering and he has lost track of half the towns he has been in, never mind the hundreds, if not thousands of people he has seen. 

But the more time he and Jess spend together, in close quarters, living and working side by side, he can’t shake the feeling there is something familiar about him. And it certainly doesn’t help, the way Jess looks at him sometimes when they’re alone or Andy isn’t paying attention. Like they have a shared secret, one Jess wants him to know but Slim can’t think of what it might be. 

The last time he had been close to anyone had been in the alley years ago, in a town he can’t remember the name of. He might not remember the town but he can clearly remember what happened in the alley, the way the other man had pressed against him, the sting of teeth against his jaw, hot pleasure spreading through him as a sure hand had worked him. If he thinks about it hard enough, he can recall the weight over the man in his hand, the bitten off sound as he had come, the way he had so trustingly leaned into him for a moment. But no matter what he can’t seem to remember the man’s face and it is annoying him to no end. 

Setting the axe down Slim looks to the corral, where Jess is with Andy, working with a rope. His brother is looking up at Jess with rapt fascination, taking in his every word and Slim is glad Jess has taken Andy’s enthusiasm and questions in stride. 

Jess must sense his gaze because he looks away from Andy, with that damn infuriating smile and Slim drops his gaze. Heat feels his cheeks and he heads into the house to make lunch. 

\-----

Slim accepts the harness from Jess, carefully hanging it out over the pegs as he does so. Andy and Jonesy are in Laramie, leaving the two of them alone on the ranch and it feels like they’ve been caught in a good-natured argument all morning. “I’m not saying you’re wrong.”

Jess huffs as he thrusts another harness against Slim’s chest. “Sure sounds like what you’re sayin’, from where I’m standing.”

Adjusting the harness on the pegs Slim turns back to Jess, breath catching in his throat. Jess is looking at him, challenge in his eyes, underlain with an invitation and it feels like he has just been punched in the stomach. He shakes his head, feeling a little like an idiot, and he has no idea how he managed to forget him. “It was you.”

Jess laughs as he slides closer to Slim. “I was startin’ to wonder how long it was going to take you to remember.”

Despite the fact Jess isn’t quite touching him Slim can feel his heat, and unsurprisingly his body reacts to the closeness. He might not have remembered Jess’ face, but it didn’t take much to recall the way he had felt and Slim curls his hand around Jess’ wrist, the single point between them. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

Shrugging Jess moves until they’re pressed together but he doesn’t do anything else. “I was hopin’ you would remember.” He smiles, and there is an edge to it that makes a shiver run through Slim, arousal sliding through him. “Even now, I recall that night quite fondly. So imagine my surprise when I found you standin’ over me. If not for the rifle, I might have thought it was a dream.”

“So all the teasing was on purpose?” Slim strokes his thumb under the cuff of Jess’ shirt, noting the way he is leaning toward him, eyes half closed. 

Jess gives a brief nod, gaze never leaving Slim’s face. “Hoping to spark a memory. The idea of you kept me warm on more than a few nights alone.”

Slim drops his eyes, looking between them and he can make out the swell of arousal in Jess’ pants and he takes a deep breath because he wants this, as does Jess. He raises his head, tipping it toward the empty space between harnesses. Jess trustingly steps towards the wall and Slim catches his hips, turning him to face it, drawing his arms up to rest against the worn wall. He crowds against Jess, not giving him a chance to speak. 

He presses against Jess’ back, bracing his forearm against the wall above the other man’s head. He rests his hand on Jess’ stomach and dips his head, pressing his lips to the nape of Jess’ neck. It makes Jess shiver and he grins, hand sliding lower. “You were the first thing I thought about when I woke up that morning. It wasn’t hard to remember what your hand had felt like.”

Even with one hand he manages to work Jess’ belt and fly open. He dips his hand in, fingers brushing against the length of Jess’ cock and he draws him out, fingers curled loosely but he doesn’t otherwise move. Instead he tips his head, nipping at the point of his jaw. “That night, I wanted better light, oil, to touch you again.”

Jess laughs, the sound echoing through Slim. “You could have if you’d found me the next few days. I stayed there longer than I do most places, hopin’ maybe you would come by.”

“Fuck.” Slim nips at the back of Jess’ neck, hoping it won’t leave a mark, even as he rocks against him, cock hard. He’s glad he hadn’t known about that, or he might have given in, lost another day coming home. 

There is a thing of oil on the small shelf to his right and Slim is glad for the it. Jess makes a sound when he releases him, pressing back against him in enticement. He pries the lid off with one hand, dips his fingers into the viscous liquid before wrapping his hand back around Jess’ cock. Sliding a wet thumb across the head he listens to the hitch in Jess’ breathing, the way his hips jerk at the light touch but he doesn’t do anything else.

Jess cranes his head to look at him, a faint hint of irritation pinching his brows. “You plannin’ on doin’ something?”

Slim kisses Jess’ cheek before nipping at the lobe of his ear. “I just thought I would enjoy this for a second.” He glides his thumb across the head again, drawing a whine from Jess, whose head drops again, eyes fluttering shut. “Making up for all the teasing.”

He doesn’t give Jess a chance to respond, just starts stroking, hand sliding easily along the length of Jess’ cock. It has been years and he doesn’t quite remember what Jess likes, but he seems to be doing fine if the sounds Jess are making is any indication, the way he is rocking into his fist and back against him. He wants to drag this out, until Jess is shivering against him, making little sounds, desperate for release but they can’t, not now. 

So he settles for firming his grip, stroking Jess hard, teasing the head and he drops his arm, wrapping it around Jess’ chest, holding him close. He comes with a bit off groan and Slim kisses the skin below his ear, slowing his strokes until he is just holding him.

Jess pulls away, turning into him, hands going to his belt and Slim doesn’t fight, watches as Jess opens his pants, drawing him out. Jess’ free hand glides across his, taking up any residual oil and he groans as slick fingers curl around him. Jess doesn’t waste any time, not that it is going to take much. Not with the way Jess had felt against him, the sounds he made.

And it doesn’t, because Jess remembers, and his touch is sure and quick.

Slim accepts a rag from Jess, cleaning his hands before he starts putting himself to rights. He glances at Jess, who is grinning faintly, and he shakes his head.

Jess’ movements are loose and languid as he tucks his shirt back in. Doing up his belt he looks at Slim and steps into him. “At least this time we were inside.” He presses his lips to Slim’s in a brief kiss before stepping back. “Maybe next time there will be a bed involved.”

That thought makes Slim pause, heat running through him despite his recent orgasm. There are so many things they could get up to in a bed and it isn’t hard to imagine, Jess sprawled on the bed under him, open and slick. Slim glances at Jess, can tell from the other man’s grin that he knows exactly what he is thinking and Slim sighs. 

He is lost.


End file.
